What friends are for
by IcanhazDEATH
Summary: The Doctor has been possessed by a demon, and goes on a killing spree in London. But there is still hope for him. When Sherlock gets the case, he knows immediately that this is no ordinary string of murders. He calls in the Winchesters, and together they try to find a way to exorcise the Doctor without hurting him. Aliens aren't the same as humans, remember Dean?
1. Criss Angel? Or something worse?

_1:15 a.m. _

The security guard had just started working at the gallery that night.

Nobody had warned him of the creepy shadows that danced on the works of art, nobody warned him that the building was old, so the structure creaked and sighed with age. Nobody had told him much of anything, except "Grab your uniform and get to work." He didn't like the manger here, too snobby. He quickly made his way from gallery to gallery, eager to get back to the guard room so he could just watch everything on CCTV. He was walking down a hallway that connected two galleries, when he thought he heard footsteps. These were not his footsteps, these were heavier. He immediately stopped walking, but the footsteps continued. He listened closely, trying to narrow down were they were located. He silently followed the sound of the steps, until he came upon a gallery that he had been in not five minutes ago. _What the hell? All the windows are locked, and the alarm wasn't triggered. How did Harry Houdini get in? _He drew his gun from the holster, and turned off the safety. Cautiously, he entered the gallery, sweeping his flashlight from left to right, searching for the suspect.

But to his dismay, the room seemed empty. This was puzzling to the man. There was only one entrance, and he was standing in the middle of it. If the person left, he would have heard their footsteps if they chose the entryway, and if he had chosen the window, they alarm would have gone off. So that left only one option: the person was still there.

As the guard came to this conclusion, he heard something that confirmed his theory soundly. There was a rumbling laugh, one that echoed through the huge gallery room. He couldn't find the source, and that frightened him. The laughing abruptly stopped, and the silence that followed it was deafening. He was starting to doubt his sanity when he spotted a figure on the far wall of the gallery. He swept his flashlight in the direction of the shadow, but it moved before his flashlight reached it. He followed the shadow with his flashlight, but it seemed to be one step ahead of him. Shadow suddenly disappeared from the wall, and he was left frantically waving his flashlight around, searching for it.

He failed to see the shadow materialize from the wall into a person, and didn't notice until he heard the footsteps getting closer. He whipped around, and brought up his gun to a defensive position. He shone the flashlight into the intruder's eyes, hoping to disorient him. The light also illuminated a head of thick, brown hair swept to the side, and a bowtie at the neck. The trespasser just growled and snatched his flashlight, throwing it across the room. The light extinguished upon impact with the floor, plunging the room into gloom. The guard could only see the faint outline of him, and he made the mistake of blinking, and the outline was gone. The guard blinked again, and this time the shadow was in front of his face. He could feel hot breath on his face, and recoiled from the sudden smell of rancid meat that wafted from its mouth. The guard kept backing up until he was against the window, moonlight pooling on the floor. When the intruder stepped into the ring of light with him, he had to stifle a scream.

Its chin was caked with blood, new and old. There was blood on its shirt front, staining the brown tweed jacket and enhancing the red in the bowtie. What really made him want to scream were the eyes. They were solid black, and followed his every move. He pressed himself further back against the wall, hoping to get away from this… _creature. _It definitely wasn't human. It moved with the grace of a predator, and licked its lips in anticipation. The guard eyed the exit, but the creature saw his glance and chuckled.

"You aren't going _anywhere _without my permission." It whispered with malice, but the voice seemed to echo in his head.

The guard bolted for the door, dodging around the creature and sprinting as fast as he could go. But the creature was in front of him in an instant, and grabbed his throat in a chokehold. It lifted him up, so his feet were dangling, and growled, "I told you. You aren't going _anywhere _without my permission." It slammed the guard onto the ground, his head smacking painfully against the marble floor. Stars danced across his vision, and he groaned in pain.

The creature bent down, his rancid breath once again in his face. "Stupid human. Your race is so incompetent, yet your blood is _delectable_."

The guard's eyes widened at this comment, and he tried to scramble up off the floor. The creature straightened up and put its foot on his chest, holding him down. He bent down again, this time grabbing the front of his uniform, and hauled him up off the floor, so they were face to face. The creature grinned evilly, baring his teeth. The guard was suppressing a scream, but his hands were visibly shaking.

"I'm going to kill you now, Mr. Security Guard. I want you to scream as I sink my teeth into your neck, I want you to _scream as loud as you can _as I drain every drop of blood from you."

So when the creature lunged for his throat, he complied with every ounce of his being. His bloodcurdling scream echoed off the walls, and was music to the demon's ears.


	2. Gruesome awakening

_2:38 pm _

Greg Lestrade pulled up to the museum in his cruiser, shutting the car off and stepping out. He scanned the crowd, looking for Anderson. He spotted him and headed over.

"What do we have?" he asked once he got within earshot. Anderson grimaced before answering.

"This is one of the most gruesome cases I have ever seen, in my entire career. The body seemed to be drained of blood, but whatever killed our victim decided to have a bit of fun with the body. You'll see what I'm talking about when were inside." With another grimace and a small shiver, Anderson led the way inside. _Really, a scene that makes _Anderson _shudder? This must be one horrible scene. _Lestrade was sure Anderson could handle the average dead body. Is this case was bothering him, it must be pretty horrible.

As they got closer to the crime scene, Lestrade's sense of smell was assaulted by the haughty stench of rotting flesh, and the bitter tang of sulfur. It almost made him gag. When they finally arrived at the scene, Lestrade had to quickly turn around to avoid throwing up on the spot.

Anderson shuddered again. Lestrade got his stomach under control and turned around, taking a couple shaky steps toward the body. The poor guy's body was horribly mutilated; even the bloody head was missing. "Dear Lord. What the bloody hell could have done something like this? The bloody thing is even missing its _head." _

"I know. But the worst thing is, if you look at the edges of the wound. We haven't been able to determine a murder weapon yet; the body is too badly torn apart." The body in question had its front completely torn open, and the whole cavity of the torso was empty, yet there were no entrails anywhere in the crime scene. Anderson's team had scoured every inch of the room, not even finding a blood trail depicting that the entrails were moved to another room. The bones had been completely removed from the body, all 206 of them, and placed on the floor to recreate a perfect human skeletal outline. The only thing missing was the victim's head.

The odd part of the crime scene was that there was no blood. The bones looked like they had been boiled, they were completely white, and not at stain on them to tell that they had been in a human body. The open torso looked like someone had taken a suction tube and syphoned all the fluids out. The skin was in fact starting to shrivel and crack, because it was so dry.

Yet the oddest part was that there were no fingerprints on any doors, no footprints in the dust. The security tapes were all a bunch of hacked, scrambled mess. There was absolutely no way in telling who was in here, and who had killed the security guard.

Anderson sighed heavily. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think you need to call in the freak."

Lestrade could only readily agree.


End file.
